“I see,” Steve said. “Tell me something. When you arrested him, did he look the same as he does today?”
Officer Hambrick smiled. “He most certainly did not.”
“Oh? And how was he different?”
“He had green hair.”
“Green hair?”
“Yes, sir. His hair was cut in a green mohawk.”
“Thank you. No further questions.”
When Steve sat down, Jeremy Dawson leaned in. “I don’t get it. You’re trying to mix him up, right? You’re trying to make him think it wasn’t me?”
“Not at all,” Steve said.
After that Dirkson picked up speed. He called a handwriting expert who testified that the will was indeed in the handwriting of Jack Walsh. He called the ballistics expert who testified that test bullets fired from the gun found in Jeremy Dawson’s locker matched absolutely with the fatal bullet taken from the body of the decedent. He called an expert from the crime lab, who testified that a series of tests performed on samples of the charred remains of the clothing found in the subway station indicated that they had indeed been drenched with gasoline and then set on fire.
Steve Winslow did not cross-examine any of these witnesses.
And the faces of the jurors became grimmer and grimmer.
At that point, Dirkson recalled Carl Jenson to the stand.
Once Judge Grimes had reminded Jenson that he was still under oath, Dirkson rose and said, “Now, Mr. Jenson. Referring to the date, February 26th, the day of the murder, did you see the defendant, Jeremy Dawson, at any time on that day?”
“Yes, I did.”
“And when was that?”
“It was approximately five-thirty in the afternoon.”
“And where did you see him?”
“At home. At our house, in Teaneck.”
“You and the defendant both live there?”
“That’s right.”
“And what happened on this occasion?”
“Well, I was in the kitchen making myself a sandwich. I heard the front door open. I went out to see who it was and it was him.”
“By him, you mean …?”
“The defendant. Jeremy Dawson.”
“What was he doing?”
“He was coming in the front door.”
“Did you talk with him at that time?”
“Yes, I did.”
“What did you talk about?”
“I asked him where he’d been.”
“Did you have a reason for asking that?”
“Yes, I did.”
Dirkson nodded. “Fine, Mr. Jenson. Now listen carefully, because we are getting into an area where we have to be careful about the rules regarding hearsay evidence. So try to answer my questions carefully, and answer only what is asked, and try to avoid telling us what some other person, other than the defendant, may have told you. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
“Fine. With that in mind, let me ask you this. During the course of the afternoon, were you in communication with anyone from Jeremy Dawson’s high school?”
“Yes, I was.”
“Good. Now, you say you asked Jeremy Dawson where he’d been?”
“That’s right.”
“And what did he say?”
“He shrugged, and said, ‘Out.’”
“What did you say then?”
“I told him I’d been on the phone with his high school, and asked him why he cut his afternoon classes.”
“What did he say?”
“He didn’t answer. He just made a rude remark.”
“Was that the extent of the conversation?”
“No, it wasn’t. I asked him if he’d seen Jack Walsh.”
“What did he say to that?”
“He laughed and said, Where the hell would I see him?’”
“What happened then?”
“I kept pressing him, asking him questions. Finally he turned on me and he grinned and he said, ‘You’re really stupid, Carl. You think you’re ever gonna see any of Uncle Jack’s money? You better think again.’”
“I want to be clear on this. This was five-thirty on the afternoon of the day of the murder. Jeremy Dawson laughed at you and made a remark about Jack Walsh’s money and your chances of ever getting it?”
“That’s right.”
“What happened then?”
“I asked him what the hell he meant by that and he just laughed and went upstairs.”
“And then what?”
“He just went upstairs, took a shower and changed his clothes.”
“What did you do?”
“I hung around, waited for him to come down.”
“Why?”
“I was upset. It bothered me, what he’d said. Particularly with what was going on, or with what I thought was going on. I wanted to talk with him some more.”
“And did you?”
“I tried, but he wouldn’t talk. He came downstairs a half hour later, all showered and changed. I asked him what he meant by what he said, and what was going on. But he wouldn’t answer. He just made some rude remarks and went out the door.”
“Did you ask him where he was going?”
“Yes, I did, but he wouldn’t say. He just made comments I would not repeat in court.”
“Did he say anything else that you
“Yeah. Last thing he said before he went out the door.”
“And what was that?”
“He turned around, he pointed his finger in my face, and he said, ‘You be nice to me, Carl, ’cause I’m gonna be rich.’”
Dirkson paused and let that sink in. “And that was approximately at what time?”
“Between six and six-thirty.”
“On the evening of February 26th?”
“That’s right.”
“That was the last time you saw Jeremy Dawson that night?”
“That’s right.”
“Thank you, Mr. Jenson. That’s all.”
Judge Grimes said, “Mr. Winslow?”
Steve rose, crossed in to the witness.
Carl Jenson eyed him warily. After Winslow’s previous cross-examination of him, Jenson was bracing himself
